Intervention
by Noisseau
Summary: A boy is lost and alone, assailed from all sides, without a haven in the storm--that is, until Providence steps in to change the course of history....


Disclaimer: The events recognizable from "Phantom" belongs to Susan Kay,  
and the usual suspects--I mean characters--belong to the inimitable Gaston   
Leroux. The narrator belongs to me.  
  
A/N: Having finally gotten around to reading that wonderful book "Phanom" by Susan   
Kay, it took me some time to clear the haze of anger and indignation toward certain  
characters from my brain. Once I came to my senses, however, I had the inescapable   
impression that had dear Erik only stumbled upon the right person, all or most of his   
hardships could have been averted. The following story is what has grown and will   
continue to grow out of those musings.......  
  
  
  
  
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Intervention  
  
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Dear Diary,  
  
A most unusual thing has just happened. I was sitting up in the front  
room, planning to read late into the night--I do that often these days,  
since Father's death. I had just finished stoking the fire when I heard  
a noise from the clearing in front of the cottage; it sounded like  
cautious footsteps through the dense undergrowth. It could very well  
have been an animal or a Gypsy, for all I know, but I felt strangely  
compelled to go to the front door and investigate.  
  
The light from the cottage spilled out across the lawn as I opened the  
door, and the sound stopped abruptly. I searched the shadows carefully,  
and I am certain that I saw the flash of eyes in the darkness. I felt  
some understandable fear at the presence of this unknown intruder, but  
some stronger urge stopped me from immediately retreating into the  
cottage. It was inexplicable, I must say. But after all, the Gypsies  
have never bothered me before.  
  
Giving into the urge, I called out, "Hello? Is someone there?"   
  
Utter silence answered me, but I again caught a glimpse of glowing eyes  
among the trees.  
  
I cannot explain what made me think that the thing--whatever in  
was--must be hungry, but there it is. "Please do not be afraid," I  
addressed the darkness. "Wait, and I will get you something to eat.   
You can be on your way after that, if you like, but please let me help you."  
  
I glanced around again, and when no answer came, I turned on my heel  
back into the room and pushed the door shut--but not all the way. I  
must have been mad to do it, but I feel as if some Divine insight had  
shown me what my course of action must be.  
  
I worked quickly in my kitchen, gathering a loaf of bread, a block of  
cheese, and a jug of water. How I knew that the lurker must be human  
enough to use a water jug, I cannot say.  
  
I came back to the door, but restrained myself from throwing it  
open--that would surely have startled the creature. I am not  
superstitious; I did not think it a Fairy or Goblin come to torment me,  
only a fellow human being in need of my aid. I stepped out onto the  
flagstones that served as a porch and methodically laid the items out.  
I was careful to place them in enough light to be seen, but not enough  
to deter my reticent visitor from accepting them.  
  
I wanted very much to stay and see what ventured out of the forest, but  
knew that such action would certainly defeat my mission. Instead, I  
gazed out to where I'd seen the eyes and called out, "Please eat. The food is  
good for an empty stomach. I'll go inside now, but I shall leave the  
door unlatched. You may come in if you like."  
  
With that I wrenched myself away from my small offering and retreated  
into the cottage.  
  
I waited for some hours, trying to read and failing miserably in my  
curiosity and anxiety. Had I done the right thing? Was I finally going  
mad in my solitude?  
  
I must have fallen into a restless sleep, because when next I looked  
through the windows, dawn was beginning to filter in. I leapt from my  
chair and hurried to the window with the best view of the offered meal.  
  
I do not know who or what--no, it must be "who"--paid me that late night  
visit, but the morning light shows me that the food is gone. I find the  
jug empty, but still set neatly on the edge of the flagstones. Not a  
crumb of bread or cheese remains.  
  
I know now that I was completely right in what I have done for whomever  
that poor soul is.   
  
How is it, then, that I find myself hoping that the person will return   
for more?  
  
  
Yours,  
Sabine  
  
  
  
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A/N: Well? I plan to continue exploring the possibilities. Reviews are much   
appreciated!!!!! ;-)  
  
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"Eliminate the impossible, and whatever remains, however improbable, must be true."  
--Sherlock Holmes--  
  
  
"I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen, not only because  
I see it, but because by it I see everything else."  
--C. S. Lewis-- 


End file.
